


Domestic Bliss

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chester could probably take him down, but it would end up the way it always does; Rob’s hands tight around his wrists, could crush them if he wanted too, but instead he just drops his head and bites roughly at his lips with a sneer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Bliss

Chester drops onto the couch and the leather creaks beneath him. He always hated the sound but Rob pretty much had carte blanche to choose what furniture he wanted. His house. His rules. Whether Chester liked it or not. And sure, he could probably take him down, but it would end up the way it always does; Rob’s hands tight around his wrists, could crush them if he wanted too, but instead he just drops his head and bites roughly at his lips with a sneer.

And Chester loses.

At opposite sides of the couch from each other their knees still press together. That’s how small the couch is. And Chester had twisted his face when he first walked in and saw it. “I have to sleep on there?” He had coughed out incredulously.

Rob raised an eyebrow “Not if you’re a good boy.”

It goes without saying that he never slept on the couch.

A year later. Still can’t stand it. Rob turns and catches him pulling a face and chuckles, “You’re such a fucking woman. Even Vanessa didn’t fuss as much as you.”

He fights very hard not to say ‘Vanessa wasn’t the one who bent over for you’ or maybe ‘Vanessa isn’t here to take your bullshit any more’ and opts, instead, for snorting and kicking his feet up onto the low coffee table in front of him.

“Get your feet down, asshole.”

“Make me.” Chester knows he will. Knows it’ll end in them fighting and, ultimately, sex.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” Rob snarls. “Maybe for once I want to have a fucking peaceful evening with my boyfriend that doesn’t end in bloodshed.”

Chester laughs; a sharp, hollow sound. “If that’s what you wanted, you’d not be sitting here with me. I’m not your boyfriend, man.”

Rob glares at him coldly, jumps up from his seat and his fist meets Chester’s cheek with a crack.

And on the disgusting little sofa, they fuck.


End file.
